


Falling Like The Rain

by MiriSkiecer



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anger, Being High, Drugs, Evan Hansen - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rain, Serious, Wacked out prescriptions, connor Murphy - Freeform, eh it's okay, helps the trees grow, not an accurate depiction of being high, not crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriSkiecer/pseuds/MiriSkiecer
Summary: "I asked," The boy hissed, slinging an arm over Evan's shoulders and turning him away from the curious eyes. "Are you fucking high?"With their heads so close together, the sound of the hoarse whisper came through crystal clear.Evan smiled."Probably." he giggled, and promptly went limp.***Or Dr. Sherman messes up Evan's new prescription.





	Falling Like The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, it's okay.

He was convinced the shuttle bus was a different world. With the rain slashing against the glass and the occasional flash of lightning, the silence within the walls was eerie, it made him sink his nails into his palms until the world stopped wavering out of focus.

It did that a lot. The rain blurred the stark lines of reality, making him forget that he was merely riding the bus home from his appointment.

Evan closed his eyes. The experience would be useful, would build his confidence, would help him. That’s what Dr. Sherman had said, she hadn’t mentioned that the new medical cocktail would be providing most of the effort.

The slight blur in his vision as he stared out the window was concerning. Well, more like it would have been if he actually cared. He wasn’t even concerned that feeling nothing  _ wasn’t normal,  _ and was  _ bad. _ It was nice not feeling anything for a change. 

Preferable to feeling too much.

The bus shuddered, passengers clamoring was bags were jolted from seats. The thump of his head against the window was pretty grounding, and he refocused on reality.

A woman hopped into the seat next to him, yelling something at the driver. A man across from her joined in, shouting contradicting instructions. Other people began to chime in as Evan sunk into his seat.

_ She was so close. _

Acutely, he was aware of not breathing.  _ Breathe, you’ll die. _ But the sound would probably annoy the woman. So he chose to lock his throat and keep silent, even as pressure built up behind his eyes.

The bus made a sharp U-turn, hovering against the oncoming traffic for a few panic inducing moments before finally rejoining the flow. The loud babble of voices slowed until they finally ceased all together. Plunging the bus into silence again. Evan blinked rapidly until the woman moved from beside him. Letting air into his lungs in tiny, kitten sized, gasps. His reasoning being that everyone would hear if he suddenly inhaled the great breath his lungs were screaming for.

Even after a few minutes of simply breathing, his heartbeat didn’t slow and there was still a vague pressure against his throat.  _ Panic attack _ , he thought briefly. Evan knew his mom would be sad the new pills didn’t work, she’d poured a few extra shifts into the fund in the hope that they’d produce results.

Well he wasn’t crying or shaking, and he hadn’t thrown up or passed out, Evan reasoned that this was about as close to normal as he was going to get. Might as well not ruin it for his mom, he stressed her out enough.

Evan set his head against the window again, the vibrations making his teeth rattle as he focused on sucking air into his lungs in the least disruptive manner he could manage.

As it was, the little shuttle bus was twenty minutes late to the station. He’d missed the bus. Consulting the tiny wrinkled bus schedule in his pocket, Evan determined the next round of buses would come in an hour. That was an hour Evan was not equipped to deal with, even doped up as he was.

He decided to ignore the pressure in his chest, and hugged his cast awkwardly underneath the overhang. The mass of people he’d shared the shuttle with were crammed under the meager roof space like sardines. Evan shuddered, sardines still had little eyeballs when you opened up the can. He could never stand to eat them. He took a step out from under the roof, and another until his chest was clear and thoughts of dead fish bodies didn’t swim in his head.

He was getting soaked through.

Evan clutched his umbrella to his chest. Awkwardly shifting his backpack from his arms to his shoulder, his cast dangled out into the rain.

Idly, Evan thought that it was lucky there weren’t any signatures on it. It was just plain white and totally blank. He wished that he had been able to ask for a blue one, or maybe green. He pulled his arm out of the rain as ice started to trickle down his knuckles, stepping a few inches back.

He ran into something warm.

"Watch it."

On Evan’s list of things not to do, unheedingly piss off a pretty stranger hadn’t even made it on. He saw that was a mistake now.

Evan took in the scowling face a few inches away from his own. He blinked, and blinked again. The slightly blue maybe brown eyes were still glaring at him. 

Evan very slowly turned his head until he broke eye contact, staring down at his slightly soaked shoes. He quickly looked back up to see if he had glanced away casually enough.

Those eyes were still staring at him, dark brows scrunched up, and cheeks flushed.

He should glance casually away again, but he didn’t, he kept staring.

Mr. Pretty Eyes seemed to inflate, his face twisting.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" he snarled.

Evan blinked slowly. What a silly question.

"You."

"Is that supposed to be funny?! You fucker-!"

Evan looked down at the hand that was fisted in his collar. When did that get there? Vaguely, he realized he had moved up against the wall, with Mr. Pretty Eyes up in front of him.

Now that was certainly strange. He didn't remember moving- after all, his legs didn't seem to be listening to him.

The boy was mouthing something when he spaced back in, but Evan's ears were ringing and he couldn't make it out. He frowned, out went the sound again.

The world phased back in just in time for him to catch the tail end of a question.

It was guttural and growled, but he decided to answer anyway.

"Your eyes are pretty when you're angreh." 

He slurred the last word, aware of exactly how his lips meshed together, and aware of exactly how  _ wrong _ he was at speaking.

Evan frowned again, the distant patter of rain drops suddenly became an unceasing roar. A bit of wind rustled the trees full of leaves, sounding very similar to stock audio from a nature documentary. The hiccup of engines, the thrumming of his heart. The angry voice of a teenager suddenly caught in the middle of a harsh sentence. Evan turned his attention back to the pretty boy who was  _ very _ close to him.

"What?" He yelled over the loud raindrops. "I can't hear you!" The half dozen people waiting under the eaves turned to stare.

"I asked," The boy hissed, slinging an arm over Evan's shoulders and turning him away from the curious eyes. "Are you fucking high?"

With their heads so close together, the sound of the hoarse whisper came through crystal clear.

Evan smiled.

"Probably." he giggled, and promptly went limp.

When he woke up in the taxi, (he was probably being kidnapped) it occurred to him that the pills he was on were definitely more fun than anything he’d tried in a long time.

It also occurred to him that he’d never been in a taxi before, but it certainly smelled like what a taxi would smell like. Kind of spicy, but subtle and warm, with the overpowering scent of dust.

Evan shifted against the cheap leather, his elbow pressing against something soft.

"Finally sober?"

"I don't have any moneh." Evan gazed at the pretty face that was looking at him from quite close. A pretty face with quite wide and startled blue eyes.

"The hell? I'm not mugging you."

Pretty blue eyes with a touch of brown.

"I know you!" Evan sat up with a lurch.

The boy flinched, a shadow flashing across his face, before his eyebrows creased. "Whatever the fuck you’ve heard-”

"Mr. Pretty Eyes!" Evan interrupted, smiling brightly. "Sign my cast!" He swung his arm straight into the other boy's stomach. He huffed with pain.

“The fuck?” He shoved Evan against the window. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m high.” Evan corrected, he didn’t even stutter.

“No shit. And what are you even on, you were conked out for thirty minutes and you’re still high as a kite. I need some of that.”

“I’m a treeh.”

Loopy as he was, the pretty brunet’s exasperated eye roll wasn’t missed. 

“Sure. Now address? I’m dropping your high ass off.”

Evan thrust his arm under the other’s chin.

“Sign it and I’ll tell.”

“What the fuck? You can’t just-”

“ _ Sign _ .”

“You’re a shitface, tree boy. You know that?” Eyes glittering, he yanked the pen out of Evan’s fist. “Why would you even want  _ me _ to sign your stupid fucking cast…” He muttered as he dragged the pen down in a jagged ‘C’. He didn’t speak again as Evan watched. The crease in his pale forehead growing more pronounced as he focused on getting the pen to  _ work _ on the shitty corrugated plaster.

He slammed the pen down. “Now give me your fucking address.” Evan didn’t respond, instead his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against the door.

To be damned with breathing.

 

***

 

“ _ Fucking leave it!”  _

Evan woke up to someone screaming very close to him. The body belonging to the voice slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame, and hurled something at it. Something that made a very large thump and an ominous crunching sound. He waited through the half dozen screeched curses, and the harsh thumping of a fist against a wall. Or maybe though the wall. He only opened his eyes when the bed beneath him was kicked violently.

“Wake the  _ fuck up! _ ” 

Evan opened his eyes to a very flushed, and very pissed off Connor Murphy, snarling down at him.

“You crazy high ass bastard, stumbling the fuck around with your glazed out of your shit mind expression and stupid fucking cast. What was I  _ supposed  _ to do?! Just  _ leave _ ?!”

Connor turned away and punched the lamp off the nightstand, the light bulb shattering to bits. “ _ Huh?!”  _ With a guttural roar he shoved the table into a pile of clothes, over turning it and spilling the contents of the drawer. He kicked it into the wall hard enough to create a huge hole, and a shriek sounded from the other side, followed by rapid footsteps that went away from the room.

Connor kicked the nightstand violently until one of the legs snapped off.

“What the fuck.” He finally muttered and slumped down to the floor, spent.

Evan didn’t dare move.

Or breathe.

But he had to breathe because what if he passed out again, that’s be bad, and if he passed out again Connor would be angry again and what if he _hurt_ him, and _ohgodhedidn’tlikepain_ and how did he even _get_ here, Connor must have touched him because he didn’t really remember a lot but blue eyes. _Blue eyes_ _and oh god. Oh god, Connor. Connor Murphy._ He’s in Connor Murphy’s bed, and he has no idea how he got there.

He doesn’t even realize he’s making strangled little mewling sounds and hyperventilating until a hand slaps itself down across his mouth and he’s being told to  _ breathe, _ and  _ everything is going to be alright, just breathe. _ And he’s in Connor’s arms and the world is spinning but he’s got warm hands that are stroking soft circles on his back.

Evan takes deep gulping breaths until his lungs can catch up and he gradually pushes himself up off Connor’s shoulder. Seeing the mess of snot and tears he’s made of Connor’s sweatshirt, he starts to stammer out apologies. His hands clammily pressed to his chest, too anxious to touch anything,  _ because he’ll mess it up and- _

Connor’s hands slap hard onto Evan’s face.

“ _ Shut up _ .”

He really doesn’t sound at all mad, just distressed.

Evan shuts up, clamping his hands over his mouth and staring at Connor with the widest cornflower blue eyes.

“Sorry.” He whispers.

Connor scowls, which doesn’t help Evan’s racing heart much.

“Don’t”

“ _ Sorry- _ ah. S-” Evan bit his lip to keep the words from tumbling out. Stay calm. “C-connor.”

He grunts.

“W-what am- I, I mean. I mean wh-why am I h-here? H-how did…?”

“Just fucking chill, alright?”

Evan snapped his mouth shut, staring at Connor with what could be called fear, but what’s totally not fear because that would be rude and Connor just helped him-

“You passed out at the bus station and I didn’t know your address so I just brought you here. You were pretty stoned I mean, I couldn’t just leave you there. And you’re not like  _ me _ so.”

He trailed off, but Evan kind of understood.

“It w-was the new prescrip- prescription w-wasn’t it?”

“The fuck are you asking me. And you got high off of  _ prescription drugs _ ? What kind of crazy fucker are you?”

“N-no!” he shouted. “I-I mean,” Evan stared at his lap and his eyes widened. He scrambled off of Connor’s legs and distanced himself.

“S-s-s-sorry! Sorry!” He tripped over the broken nightstand, falling onto his rear. Connor stood up to approach him, and Evan stared at the offered hand, going from green, to pale, to red and back again. Connor seemed to get irritated from waiting for him to stand up and he leaned forwards suddenly. 

Evan flinched, hand clutching the jagged wood behind him. Connor froze, dropping the hand that was reaching towards Evan’s arm.

“What the shit.  _ Whatever _ . Call someone to give you a ride and go home already.” He tossed his unlocked phone into Evan’s lap and stormed into the bathroom.

Evan waited until his jaw stopped trembling before picking up the phone and dialing his mom’s number. He had it memorized because what if he lost his phone and got lost and needed to call her. He had to have it memorized.

Heidi Hansen picked up on the second ring, she sounded exhausted. Evan winced, he’d undoubtedly woken her up from a valuable nap.

“Hi m-mom. I’m at a- I need to be picked up at-” Address, he glanced at the closed bathroom door. “Ah, uh, give me a sec.” He left the phone where he was and slowly approached the door, knocking tentatively. 

“Um, Connor? I need- ah, I kinda need your add-dd-dress.”

The reply was fast, and much less angry than he’d thought it would be. Evan quickly picked up the phone again and relayed the information to his mother who promised she’d be there soon. Her voice was more cheerful than Evan had heard her sound in awhile, and his chest ached knowing she had gotten the wrong idea.

“I’m going now.” He whispered to the bathroom door.

Evan didn’t even look at the rest of the house as he hurried down the stairs and out through the foyer, thankfully running into no one.

He was sitting on the front steps when his mom pulled up. Even before the car had stopped fully, he was pulling open the door and climbing into the passenger’s seat.

His mom was humming as she pulled away from the house, she glanced at his cast.

“Oh! So your new friend signed your cast! Connor is it? What a lovely name!”

“Ah no, this is…” Evan’s eyes shot down to the big black letters that were scribbled crookedly onto his arm.

C

O 

N

N

O

R

Connor.

Why the  _ hell _ was Connor’s name signed on his cast?

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out any odd phrases or missing words/typos.  
> Be nice  
> Comment please.


End file.
